Finding My High, Part I

I met her today. She's been screaming in silence. She was in a state of panic. Of shame. A state of fear. She's been showing up, tucked into an oversized barrel chair in the living room in Long Beach where I used to live.

I met her today. I took her hand. The hand that had been clenched with hurt, with rage, with pain. I went to her, stood beside her, and extended my hand. She took my hand. She stood up. My back straightened and my shoulders rolled back. My gaze steadied. My nostrils widened as I filled my lungs with space, expanding what had collapsed until I understood it was her silent roar I had been hearing.

There once was a door, and a room, and that too big chair. Then it was just us. Side by side, yet one in the same. She can rest now. All the work she had done, the struggling, the suffering, the crying, it was necessary. It was the sacrifice she made for me. She built me up. She kept reminding me to go forward. She demands that I never be silent.

She will always be with me; she is me.

She Says It's Time

What's a trigger if not to expel something lodged deep inside.
Encased. Enclosed. Ensconced.
A secret. But at whose expense?
Discomfort. Dis-ease. Distant.
Distant from the life She lives today.
The life She deserves.
The life She created.
The life She so wants to reclaim.
The trigger rang the doorbell at 8:10a.m.
Confusion. Cloudiness. Chaos within.
Sorting protective layers of survival.
Once firmly pressed down, sheet by sheet, as She kept climbing ahead.
Now the layers are rippled, exposing the spaces wanting to be healed.
She Says It's Time.
Time to go dark. Time to go deep. Time to let go.
It's Time to Speak.
It's Time to Expose.
Expose not the illness of another, but Her experience.
The trigger clicked.
Retraction is not an option.

How Sweet It Is

It is exactly three weeks ago today that the poodles, Pooker, and I moved to the new house. And today, exactly three weeks later, the other feathers and furs joined us. They moved in like they have been waiting to arrive, waiting to demonstrate their new routines. And they got right to it.

At some point I'll be able to articulate what I am feeling in this moment. For now, I'll use words like relief, contentment, satisfaction, pride, exhaustion, hopeful, encouraged, grateful, humbled, determined, protective, accomplished.

Today, it's mostly about the word gratitude. Heaps and buckets, rivers and pools, an endless supply.

Moving the ranch is not easy. Moving while renovating is not easy. Moving while leaving half your family behind is definitely not easy. Without my friends, well, let's just say I was fortunate enough to not know what that would mean.

I thank you, my friends and family, for your support, your time, your encouragement, your talent, your car, your trailer, your truck, your generosity, your caring, your strength, your humor, your effort, your thoughtfulness, your food, YOU.

I love you all. You all have your own spot in my heart. And while my animals are not sure who some of you are yet, I know they too send you love because they know who and what is important to me, that is for sure.

So, as I sit here worn out from the day's physical activity and emotional experience, I am freshly showered and comfortable on my sofa. The night air is cooling. I can hear the night bugs, I can hear my pups breathing in deep sleep. And I can hear my boys outside my window moving around, Shadow calling up to me on occasion, and I can reassure him quite easily no matter where I am in the house.

This is how sweet it is.

Unraveling

It's a word that has come up quite a bit lately.

First, it was used multiple times while doing exactly that with a little more than acres of electric fence tape. Five individual strands were wound together, criss-crossing around a long pressure treated post to make it easier to store and transport. No one thought about the unwind.

Then it was an emotional meltdown last Sunday. I'm not sure I used the word unravel, but it sure was a great description of my state of mind.

Yesterday, it came up again. This time, it was attempting to start a new roll of toilet tissue. There were pieces flying all over the place, big, little, long strips, tiny specs, and I was digging down two layers before I could get that bugger started.

So, what is it about that word? Is it my life unraveling before my eyes? Is it unraveling the binds of the past few years, strung so tightly while desperately holding us all together, waiting for our own space to appear? Is there a mystery somewhere deep down inside that with some crafty soul unraveling, I'll become much wiser?

Or is it as my friend, Mark, said to me while I was grunting and snorting and rejecting any pause in progress of unraveling that danged electric tape: "With a little bit of patience, we can get this done."

Well, such a simple statement for such a huge undertaking. But what about that? What about recognizing that as this new chapter page turns, awaiting the words to be written, patience will lay it out nicely, line by line, at the pace of a relaxed Sunday reader. It's my story. I'm the author. With what word will I choose to begin?

We got that post unraveled. And now with that tape I am creating a new space for my family.

Patience. Who knew!

Unraveling

It's a word that has come up quite a bit lately.

First, it was used multiple times while doing exactly that with a little more than acres of electric fence tape. Five individual strands were wound together, criss-crossing around a long pressure treated post to make it easier to store and transport. No one thought about the unwind.

Then it was an emotional meltdown last Sunday. I'm not sure I used the word unravel, but it sure was a great description of my state of mind.

Yesterday, it came up again. This time, it was attempting to start a new roll of toilet tissue. There were pieces flying all over the place, big, little, long strips, tiny specs, and I was digging down two layers before I could get that bugger started.

So, what is it about that word? Is it my life unraveling before my eyes? Is it unraveling the binds of the past few years, strung so tightly while desperately holding us all together, waiting for our own space to appear? Is there a mystery somewhere deep down inside that with some crafty soul unraveling, I'll become much wiser?

Or is it as my friend, Mark, said to me while I was grunting and snorting and rejecting any pause in progress of unraveling that danged electric tape: "With a little bit of patience, we can get this done."

Well, such a simple statement for such a huge undertaking. But what about that? What about recognizing that as this new chapter page turns, awaiting the words to be written, patience will lay it out nicely, line by line, at the pace of a relaxed Sunday reader. It's my story. I'm the author. How will I choose to start this?

We got that post unraveled. And now with that tape I am creating a new space for my family.

Patience. Who knew!

It's a New Year

As I'm sure you have noticed. A new calendar. A new line in the checkbook. A new annual deductible.

There is much that needs to shift. It is a time to reevaluate. The movement has been happening. The desire for different, growing.

When we have certain responsibilities, sometimes it is difficult to see how we can fit anything else in or change what must be done. I have been caught in this trap of thinking a little bit. I created the responsibilities. I created what must be done. As such, I can create the change. And what is it that I am seeking to change?

On this journey, sometimes that answer is crystal clear and that makes the mission easier. Then there are times when it is fuzzy, hazy, prickly, and that requires really going quiet to listen to the defined tones within the static. You know something isn't feeling right, you know it's time. But for what exactly? It's inquietude.

For the last few years I have been enjoying the unfolding of Facebook. I have been so grateful to reconnect with people from my past for whom I have always had a fondness. Our paths, while traveling in a different trajectory, still run parallel. Becoming friends with people I have never met in person has redefined the word friend to include kindred spirits. Facebook has been a fountain of useful information, expanding my knowledge base about familiar and unfamiliar topics. And the personal photos and videos--I think I enjoy them the most.

And now it seems, over the past year or so, that this social medium has become the lazy person's way to express their own dissatisfaction with life. It's a way to shift the responsibility for their state away from themselves. Stories are shared that are just not even true. There is no vetting that takes place. The story fits the fear that is festering so it warrants that Share button. Then there generally is no comment along with it. If there were, it would at least suggest some critical thought went into the sharing of information. No, just a share. In many cases, I don't believe the sharer even read the post themselves. I think the caption was enough to satisfy the need to feed the fearwolf (TM on that word, thank you.)

I find myself reading some of these posts and without knowing much about the history or the supposed author, my reasonable person's mind tells me something doesn't add up. So I do a very simple query, see that it's not accurate, I respond to the poster, and only in very few cases does the post get removed. For the rest, the post remains for others to share, perpetuating the negativity and untruth.

I have quite a few Facebook friends who never post anything fear-based, and I sure appreciate their choices. And then I just see so many posts with real low vibration that I ask, "What do you want to feel like every day? What makes you feel good?"

The unworthy: I bet only my real friends will send me a hug today.
The wannabe patriot: Share this if you support our veterans.
The God believer: Prove you love God and share this in the next 10 seconds.
The responsible US citizen: Let's build a wall to keep out all immigrants and refugees until we can take care of our homeless.
The only hard workers: Like if you think we should drug test all people on welfare.

What is it about these posts that make people feel good about themselves? These kinds of posts are very connected. They are divisive, they are judgmental, they are based in fear, and for me, they are too negative.

It has me questioning my own posts.  Do they fall into these categories that I find distasteful and uninteresting? I imagine we all like to think we are adding to the greater good when we hit Share or Like, but are we?

Admittedly, I am strong in my convictions. Would I like to see everyone move toward plant-based eating to end cruelty to all animals and improve our overall health? Yes, very much so. Would I like for everyone to choose a loving thought, action or intention over something spiteful, vindictive, or hurtful? Oh yes, I would. Would I like for everyone to wake up in the morning and see themselves as the most important priority in their life? I would because I believe all of their other relationships would flourish. Would I like everyone to honor their own god? Absolutely yes, because when we can truly honor our god, we can only honor others.

As difficult as it may be, I am going to refrain from posting much on Facebook for a bit while I explore my own intentions. It will be a challenge because I find Andy Borowitz incredibly funny. I may post some photos or comment on another post, but I will be keeping a vigilant eye on the tone. I want to live in the most positive light possible. Only I can make space for the positive light around me, only I am responsible for that.

Peace.